


you’ll be ashes too

by spaceprincessem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceprincessem/pseuds/spaceprincessem
Summary: And this was their thing. Their thing that had somehow started five years ago that Derek probably should have put a stop to, but when Stiles pushed, instead of pushing back he just let the boy win. Stiles would pretend like he didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day and Derek would pretend like he begrudgingly allowed Stiles to come over.And even though Derek sort of hated Valentine’s Day he sort of liked their thing because he sort of liked Stiles.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 189





	you’ll be ashes too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badbrains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbrains/gifts).



> A little Valentine's Day fic for the holiday! 
> 
> As always, I would be nothing without the love and support of reece. So thanks for thinking my writing is cool enough to request a vday prompt from me ❤️
> 
> also, thanks to taylor swift for producing all the angst music i listen to while writing

February was the cruelest of months, cold in a way that made spring seem like a forgotten memory. The air twisted into ice, making it hard to breathe. His lungs were burning, a hurt that he didn’t fight, because pain kept him human. Pain reminded him he was still alive. February was the cruelest of months, quiet in a way that was deafening, maddening, reminding him of the loneliness. The emptiness that sat like a heavy weight against his chest. He had a pack, but he still felt alone. It was the iron grip of guilt still latching on, dragging him down. The bitter taste of disappointment from failing those he vowed to protect. It was the constant reminder of every goddamn mistake he had ever made, shoved back into his face. Maybe it was the fucking stench of ash and decay permanently burned in his brain.

February was the cruelest of months because no matter how hard he tried to move on, she was always there, reminding him of what he lost. 

Derek slowed to a jog, taking a moment to catch his breath. It curled in the air like smoke, fading against the dark green of the surrounding evergreens. Despite it all there was still a calming sense of home when he was in preserve. Maybe it was his inner wolf craving the need to be amongst the wild and the trees. Maybe it was a reminder of better times. Of late night hide and seek with Laura. Of campfires and ghost stories in a faded blue tent pitched in the backyard. Of family picnics and loud laughter and free of the burden of fucking up every single good thing in his entire life. If he closed his eyes he could still see them. His family. He could still hear their voices in his head, fading, but not gone. 

February was the cruelest of months. One moment he had ruled the world and the next he had fallen from it, crashing through the ground, sinking to its very depths until it had swallowed him whole. And when he thought he couldn’t fall any further, the universe shoved him so far down into the darkness he might as well have been drowning. 

His phone buzzing in his pocket was strangely loud, a piercing sound that was out of place in the quiet wilderness. He pulled it free, huffing affectionately when he spotted the familiar name blinking across the screen.

“Hello, Stiles.” He said, his voice almost too small against the vast forest.

_ “I wondered if you were going to be awake this early,”  _ Stiles responded immediately, already talking a mile a minute,  _ “but, I should have known you would hate sleeping past sunrise _ .”

Derek tried to fight the smile curling against his lips, somehow Stiles never failed to make him feel  _ something _ again. “I’m surprised you’re awake at this hour.”

_ “Who said I went to sleep?”  _

Derek could practically hear the grin in his voice and he refrained from rolling his eyes. “Then I would say you’re an idiot.”

_ “Blame university and my incurable insomnia,”  _ Stiles hummed on the other line,  _ “not my fault I’m up to my ears in papers and still suffer the trauma of a life constantly threatened by the supernatural.” _

Derek swallowed the sour tang of bile. It was all his fault, wasn’t it? Stiles could have lived a happy, better life if he hadn’t known Derek Hale. It was his curse afterall. Everyone he touched, everyone he had ever really cared about either stabbed him in the back or suffered a terrible consequence. 

Derek Hale was wildfire. Derek Hale only left ash.

_ “Whatever it is you’re thinking, stop _ .” Stiles said when Derek had been silent too long.  _ “It’s too early to brood, Sourwolf. _ ”

“Anything before noon is too early for you.” Derek snorted, a small knot loosening in his chest. 

_ “Ha ha,”  _ Stiles said through a stifled yawn,  _ “listen, are you busy Saturday?” _

“Stiles,” he said with an exasperated sigh, like he always did, “don’t you know what day it is?”

He could hear the boy scoff, like the question was completely ridiculous.  _ “Derek, I literally never know what day it is anymore, besides time isn’t real anyway. _ ”

And this was their thing. Their thing that had somehow started five years ago that Derek probably should have put a stop to, but when Stiles pushed, instead of pushing back he just let the boy win. Stiles would pretend like he didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day and Derek would pretend like he begrudgingly allowed Stiles to come over. He remembered the first time it happened. 

It was right after Erica. And Boyd. And Jennifer. And Void. 

_ Derek stood in the middle of the loft. It was just a room. A room with walls made of concrete, framed by windows, filled with the small touches that made it a home. There was the worn, leather couch Isaac and Erica had helped pick out. Mismatching mugs Stiles had collected from the thrift store scattered on the counter, one for each member of the pack. There was a painting of the preserve Lydia had given him hanging over the staircase. A bookshelf he had built, an attempt to recreate the one that had sat in his parents house, but he couldn’t quite remember all of the books that belonged. It was his new beginning, a place for his pack, a chance to do things right. _

_ Except Derek wasn’t any wiser than the sixteen year old boy who fell in love with the woman who murder his entire family. _

_ It suddenly felt too big, like he couldn’t fit the entirety of who he was in this ruined concrete space. It was just a room. A room with walls made of concrete, framed by windows, filled with the small touches that made it a nightmare. There was the bed in which he had rolled in the sheets with Jennifer while she sacrificed people for her own personal gain. The dark stain of blood from where his claws had ripped through Boyd’s flesh. The splinter of wood from the beam he had been thrown into by Void. It reeked of pain and suffering and death and Derek wanted to fucking choke. _

_ He held a pale pink envelope in his hand, his name perfectly curled in black ink. It carried the faintest scent of lavender and rose water. No matter where he went, how far he ran, how hard he tried to disappear she somehow always found him. Always sent him a little reminder, like she was somehow still pulling the strings. He could have thrown it away, lit it up with a match like she had done to the place he grew up in. But nothing went better together than Derek and pain so he carefully tore through the seal with trembling hands. This year the card was bright white with a cherry red, flaming heart on the front.  _

_ Inside it read  _ **_My love burns for you_ ** _.  _

_ Below the words was a bubble gum pink kiss mark and a message scrawled in her delicate handwriting. _

**_Derek Hale always falling for the wrong girl_ **

_ He ripped the card to shreds, his hands aching from the effort. He crashed into the kitchen, desperately searching for the bottle laced with wolfsbane Peter kept hidden beneath the sink. It was only something he had done a few times with Laura when they were younger, sneaking booze on the roof of the Hale mansion at odd hours in the night. The first sip burned, his eyes watering from the taste. He quickly brought the bottle to his lips again, swallowing the brown liquid harshly, ravishing in the fire filling his lungs. He was ready to take another when a quiet knock on the door snapped him out of his hunger. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, growling as he stumbled towards the door. _

_ It was the faintest whiff of spicy cinnamon, warm vanilla making the air sugary sweet, and the faint sound of too fast beating heart that told Derek exactly who was on the other side. He exhaled deeply, eyes softening as he pulled the door open. He looked like he had just weeks ago. Dark circles and pale cheeks hollowed by a lack of appetite and only a few hours sleep. Despite everything, there was a smile. Small and timid, but it was there against the darkness and it made tears prick into Derek’s eyes, but he shook his head, ridding himself of them. _

_ “Hi,” Stiles whispered, “can I-” _

_ He broke off, looking past Derek’s shoulder at the space where he stood as something different. He almost had a look, something akin to regret, but he just swallowed it down and Derek thought he had never met anyone braver. _

_ “You want to come in?” Derek asked, feeling a little unsteady on his feet. He was glad he didn’t get much deeper into the liquor. He half remembered stories of when Stiles’ mom passed away and his father had nearly followed her into the grave by drowning himself in a bottle. Derek could only imagine how heartbreaking that would have been to watch at such a young age. _

_ “If that’s okay with you.” He said as he licked his lips, hands fidgeting nervously.  _

_ “You do know what day it is.” Derek blurted out before he could stop himself. _

_ Stiles laughed, “Explains why everyone is at the school for a dance.” _

_ Derek arched an eyebrow, “Why aren’t you there?” _

_ Stiles just shrugged, but Derek could read it in the lines of his face. Stiles was still punishing himself, still believing he should suffer the consequences of things that had been out of his control. _

_ “It’s hard being in crowded rooms,” Stiles explained after a moment as Derek moved to let him in, “despite being surrounded by so many people I still feel so alone. It’s suffocating, but the quiet is almost just as loud.” _

_ “So you decided to come find me?” Derek asked in a voice that sounded more self deprecating than he meant it to. _

_ Stiles shrugged again, but Derek could see his tongue rolling against his teeth, like he was mulling the words over in his head. “There’s something about you that doesn’t make me feel that way.” _

_ Now was his chance. He could tell Stiles to run, to find someone else other than the fucking wildfire wolf that turned everything to dust. But Derek couldn’t quite let Stiles go, because there was something about the boy’s presence that settled the wolf in his chest. It was a terrifying thought, but he was so tired of feeling lonely and strung out from his guilt and deep rooted self hatred. _

_ “Fine,” Derek finally said as he watched Stiles settle comfortably on his couch, “but I get to pick the take out.” _

_ Stiles gave him a half smile as he flipped on television, “Fine, but I get to pick the movie.” _

Stiles had stopped him from spiraling into his darkness and Derek had pulled Stiles out of his. When the next year came around, the purple envelope that smelled like lavender and roses mocking him, Stiles showed up again. And even though Derek sort of hated Valentine’s Day he sort of liked their thing because he sort of liked Stiles.

“I’m not busy,” Derek finally relented, “but I get to pick the take out.”

“Fine,” and Derek swore he could have melted because he knew, he just knew Stiles was grinning on the other end of the line, “but I get to pick the movie.”

“Goodbye, Stiles.” Derek said as he hung up the phone with the boy laughing on the other end.

Derek shoved the phone back into his pocket, his pace slowing to a stop as he realized where he had gone. It was a subconscious thing, really, somehow he always ended up here. Despite the elements and the years the ruined remains of the Hale house still stood in the darkening shadows of the preserve. The black wood cracked and caved in, the shattered glass scattered along the fallen pines, the final pillars of a once thriving family now gone. The burnt stairs creaked beneath his weight as he ascended the porch. He ran his fingers over the blood stained alpha pack symbol still marked on the door. When he stepped inside it was like the entire world had disappeared.

It was the kind of quiet Stiles had described. Suffocating. No matter how much time had passed the raw pain of losing his family still haunted him. It had nestled deep into his bones, just like the smell of burnt flesh. Just like the feel of ash beneath his skin. Sometimes he could catch glimpses of his life before the fire. Sometimes he could still hear his family’s screamings ringing in his head. And here was the proof. The goddamn proof that Derek Hale should just fucking die alone. His hand through the wall was swift, bloodied knuckles already healing over. He wished they wouldn’t. 

February was the cruelest of months.

* * *

When the air sweetened with the scent of warm vanilla and cinnamon Derek was already at the door. His lips turned down slightly because it soured with the scent of something heavy and metallic. Derek felt the familiar ache in his jaw, the inch to fight -  _ to protect _ \- as he pulled the door open, only to be met with a smiling Stiles. The boy was holding a small cluster of bright, yellow dandelions.

“You know those are weeds, right?” Derek asked as he cocked an eyebrow.

“These,” Stiles scoffed as he shoved his way into the loft, “happen to be the very first things to bloom in early spring, which is important for local pollinators.”

Derek only gave Stiles a fond smile as he watched the boy head into the kitchen, roaming through the cupboards until he pulled out a small, glass mason jar. The winch of pain did not go unnoticed by Derek as Stiles began filling the jar with water.

“Stiles,” Derek asked gently as he moved into the boy’s space, a hand resting against the small of Stiles’ back, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Stiles said as he waved Derek away, “I’m fine.”

He placed the dandelions in the water and carried it over to the bookshelf, placing it next to his favorite selection of poetry books. It was strangely soft and domestic in a way Derek had never grown used to over the years. Stiles just belonged in his space, like he somehow filled the cracks where Derek was too big to fit. Even when he wasn’t there Stiles still lingered. A flannel shirt abandoned on the back of his kitchen chair. A dog eared book with post-it notes scribbled in his hand writing left on the coffee table. Half finished drawings of flowers and constellations posted to the fridge with magnets made to look like trees. It only ever truly felt like a home when Stiles was there and Derek wasn’t quite sure what to do with that feeling yet.

“Liar.” Derek hummed as he moved back towards the door. His gaze wandered out into the empty hallway, eyes searching for an envelope that never failed to arrive. He’d been surprised when it wasn’t with the morning mail, but Kate never missed an opportunity to take him down.

“Expecting someone, Sourwolf?” Stiles asked from the couch and there, for a moment, Derek could see a look of pain pass across his face.

“Yeah,” Derek said sarcastically to hide the worry, “my hot date.”

Stiles grinned and Derek couldn’t help, but notice how much brighter the room had become. It was just who he was and Derek didn’t understand how he had been granted the privilege to see it in such a private space. A smile, bright like the rising sun, just for him. He never felt like he deserved it.

“Did you order the food?” Stiles asked as he eased back onto the couch, closing his eyes for a beat too long. “I’m starving.”

He was paler than normal, a glisten of sweat against his forehead. The heavy scent of metal continued to saturate the air and when Stiles lifted his arms to scrub a hand over his face Derek could finally see a dark stain hidden beneath his plaid shirt.

“Stiles,” Derek slurred as his fangs dropped,“what happened?”

Stiles pushed at the wolf weakly as he stumbled to his feet, “I told you, I’m fi-”

But the word  _ fine _ never made it as Stiles collapsed into Derek’s arms. Derek’s heart was in his throat, hands cupping the human’s face. “Stiles!  _ Stiles! _ ” He pulled up the boy’s shirt, his breath catching in his throat as he found a blood soaked bandage pressed against Stiles’ abdomen, going all the way up to his ribs. With shaking hands he pulled the wrappings away, his eyes finding the three giant claw marks carved into Stiles’ skin. They were bleeding profusely, the skin slowly stitching itself back together.

“Damn it, Stiles!” Derek growled as he immediately began taking the pain. 

He easily scooped the boy up, taking him to the bathroom where he worked on cleaning and bandaging the wounds. Stiles was mumbling words Derek couldn’t understand under his breath, the cuts healing a little quicker than before. When he was done he moved Stiles to the bed, where the boy remained fast asleep. Derek paced beside the sleeping boy, eyes darting over to his chest, like he didn’t trust his ears to tell him Stiles was still breathing. 

And this.  _ This _ felt painfully familiar. 

This was his life no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise. Because when it came down to it Derek would  _ always _ lose the people he cared about most. People like his family. Like Erica and Boyd. People like Stiles. Because he was the wildfire wolf and soon Stiles would just become ashes too. 

“Hey Sourwolf.” Stiles said groggily, amber gold peaking through half lidded eyes.

“What the fuck happened?” Derek snarled, eyes flashing blue.

Stiles ran a hand over his wound, eyeing the old basketball shirt with the number four across the front Derek had put him in when he had moved him to the bed. “It’s healing a lot slower than I thought it would. I think I exhausted my magic.”\

“By doing what?” Derek was sitting besides Stiles now, arms bracketed over the boy protectively.

“Don’t be mad.” Stiles started with a half smile.

“I’m already mad.” Derek said with a roll of his eyes.

He felt cool fingers wrapping around his wrist, thumb slowly, softly tracing against his skin. 

“Two years ago I found this card,” Stiles began and Derek stiffened, “and I immediately knew who it was from.”

“Stiles…” Derek sighed through his teeth. No one was supposed to know. It was his burden. His suffering. His reminder.

Stiles shook his head, lips turned down into a grimace. “I thought maybe it was a one off thing, revenge for Mexico or something like that.”

Derek swallowed the lump forming in his throat, trying to form some sort of explanation, some lie that wouldn’t make Stiles worry. It wasn’t his problem. Kate wasn’t his demon to face.

“But then last year I found another one.” Stiles continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And then I stumbled across a box full of all the fucking Valentine’s Day cards Kate had been sending you for years.”

Derek knew the box. It haunted the space behind a couple of loose bricks in the wall. He’d kept them. He fucking kept the ones he hadn’t destoryed on the spot because he somehow felt like deserve all of the hurt and the guilt and whatever else terrible feeling that practically burned through his veins.

“It doesn’t matter.” Derek finally murmured.

“Doesn’t matter?” Stiles asked, outraged. “Of course it fucking matters!”

He was suddenly sitting up, pushing himself into the wolf’s space, doe browns alive with something Derek could only describe as magic. Derek wished Stiles didn’t care. It would make it easier. Easier to push him away. Easier to keep him at a distance. But, they had reached past the tipping point.

“You want to know what I did?” Stiles asked, face twisting in pain and anger. “I found Kate before she could get to you. I found her and showed her exactly what would happen if she came near you again.”

“She hurt you.” Derek’s voice was small, his hand resting against Stiles’ waist, arms darkening as he took away more pain. “Stiles, I’m not worth that.”

“Derek you are worth every bit of pain and suffering the world could ever throw at me.” Stiles’s voice was gentle now. “What happened was not your fault. You are not damaged or ruined or cursed. You’re just a person who wants to be loved.”

Derek shook his head, trying to pull away, but Stiles wouldn’t let him leave, hands curling around the front of his henley. Derek let himself fall back into Stiles’ gravity, because he was so tired of fighting. “Don’t you know who I am? What I’ve done? What I’ll always do?”

Stiles gave him the sunrise smile, “The dandelions are the first things that bloom in the spring. Without them the bees and the butterflies and everything else that makes this world bloom in color wouldn’t survive the cruelest of months.”

“How can you look at me and not see an uncontrollable burn? A collection of ash?” Derek asked in the space between them.

“All I see is you.” Stiles answered simply. “And it’s beautiful.”

And Stiles waited, giving Derek the time -  _ the freedom _ \- to choose what they got to be. Derek leaned forward, his lips brushing against Stiles’. The kiss tasted like spicy cinnamon and sugary sweet vanilla. It was bright and warm and all the things Stiles had become in Derek’s life. And maybe the ever crushing guilt wouldn’t disappear overnight or anytime soon, but Derek could start forgiving himself. He could burn the box of cards Kate had sent him over the years. Even though fire could be destructive it could also be healing. 

February was the cruelest of months, but it no longer had to be the darkest. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading 🥺 let me know your thoughts!


End file.
